Future Old Man in the Past
by Blind Spot
Summary: What exactly did Old Biff do after he stole the DeLorean in 2015? REVISED.
1. Biff Catches A Break

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Back To the Future. If I did, Jennifer would've been more involved in the sequels.

I'm writing this short story mainly out of curiosity. There aren't many clues as to what Old Biff did in 1955, and he was there for a long time. He couldn't get around too good, but we knew he was smart, so he wouldn't leave it in town. I also wondered more about his life.

~~~

October 21st, 2015.

7 15 PM.

Hill Valley, California.

"Son of a," mumbled Marty McFly as he slowly strolled down the street of the futuristic neighborhood that would be his home in 30 years. He apparently was fascinated by an automatic leash that would walk a dog all by itself.

Unbeknownst to him, 77 year-old Biff Tannen was climbing into he and Doc's DeLorean with that Gray's Sports Almanac he thought was safely thrown out by Doc. 

_Ha ha. That's gonna cost you, kid!_ Tannen thought to himself as he slowly sat down in the opened gull wing door. He was prepared to hit one or both of the time travellers with his cane, but luckily he didn't have to worry about it anymore.

Setting that on the floor, and the bag with the almanac on the dashboard, he shut the door and started the car. He had a hover-converted car at home, so he knew to turn the flying circuits on. It had, however, been a long time since he had driven a manual transmission. In the confusion, he backed into an empty dumpster before spinning the car around and taking to the sky.

Not long afterwards, he couldn't help but notice all the labels in the sportscar's interior. _Brown must've gotten a label maker for his birthday and gone crazy with it._ The one that caught his attention the most was on the speedometer that said 'Get to 88.' He assumed that was the speed in which the car would travel through time.

Traffic on the skyway was still clogged from rush hour traffic. In the future, workdays could go as late as 7 or 8 O'clock. After an impatient half hour and a few miles, he reached John F Kennedy Drive. He lived in a ranch house near the Burger King that was still standing, adjacent to where Doc had lived many years before.

The neighborhood was actually similar to how it was in 1985. Stores were closer together and a few new shopping centers, fast food places, and parking garages were opened, but more people were flocking to the Courthouse Square area, so the suburban growth had been smaller. There, however were some two and three story centers, like the Toys R' Us, right next to the Burger King.

Easing off the skyway and onto the ground, he stopped at a red light. Another old man walking down the street had a surge of curiosity as he saw a car he hadn't seen since the 80's.

"Oh, e-e-excuse me, is that a DeLorean? I didn't know these cars were still being made, doggonnit. I think it's hover-converted too, when did you do that?"

As the light turned green, Biff peeled off, just saying, "Yeah it is, butthead!" to the passerby. In the distance, the other man repeated, "I think it's hover-converted."

Biff remembered him. He used to make fun of that dork, Lester, all the time in school. After a short time, he pulled into his driveway and decided to park the car in the garage, just in case anyone might see it.

He shut the garage door by voice command and went into his house. He would get to work on this tomorrow. All he wanted to do was watch some TV. Getting one of his grandson, Griff's beers from the fridge, he took his shoes off and sat in front of the flat screen television set. He started to flip through the over 300 channels.

_See the Dashboard Files, tonight at 11. The reality TV show where we watch random people driving in their cars._

_This is Entertainment Weekly. Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez have finally announced they have decided to get married after 12 years._

On MTV news, I'm Kurt Loder Junior. Today, David Lee Roth is begging Eddie Van Halen to let him rejoin the band, claiming he needs money. In 1985, Roth left Van Halen for a short-lived solo career. Snoop Dogg says he will be launching his farewell tour. Avril Lavigne says her next album will 'Totally have real punk rock'.

Tired, Biff decided to just turn the volume down and leave it on MTV. It was the only thing he was even remotely interested in. All he wanted to do was rest, especially now since Griff was arrested for the hoverboarding incident. The two had lived together since 2011, when his mom, Stephanie Tannen, had remarried and moved to Sacramento.

He and Griff would get along at times, but usually Griff was a real ziphead. This was partially due to his bionic implants, which made him mad, and often gave him superhuman strength. Most of the time, living with him was a pain. He would either invite his gang into the house and have loud parties, or would make Biff do stuff for him at any given time.

The old man would always agree. He was used to being told what to do, ever sine George McFly had gotten the better of him with one lucky punch 60 years ago. After this, his life was never quite the same. He lost the respect at school, his friends, and had to work for himself instead of bullying someone else into it.

His general life was like that. He was afraid of most people getting back at him. Things had only gotten worse since he retired on his 70th birthday in December of 2007. He had picked up money by waxing cars in his spare time. This was physically demanding, and was really taking its toll. In the last 8 years, Biff had gone from still being fairly active and in good shape, to needing a cane and hardly being able to walk on his own.

_But not tomorrow, not anymore, damnit!_ Biff thought as he dozed off in the La Z Boy couch. He was going to make his life better with that time machine!


	2. Early Morning Experimenting

October 22nd, 2015.

4:30 AM.

Old Biff woke up from a sleep on the couch in his living room with the TV still on. It was ironic that he'd fallen asleep around 8:30 last night, and had woken up a good two hours before sunrise. He always proclaimed he liked to sleep in on the weekends, even if today was Thursday, he still would stay in bed if given the chance.

He knew today was going to be a long day. He decided to take a hot shower. He wanted to be awake and alert for the trip he was planning to take. Today would be no ordinary trip though. It was going to be a trip through time, just as soon as he could figure out how to work the thing.

Slowly inching up to the shower and holding onto the wall for support, he just said "Shower on." Within seconds, warm water came blazing out.

20 minutes later, Biff got out and got dressed in an identical outfit to what he had been wearing: Plaid white checkered plants, and a red long sleeved cotton shirt. He proceeded to get some breakfast of eggs, pancakes and Orange Juice. He had finally learned to cook for himself after his last live-in girlfriend had left him in 1999.

5:00 AM

Feeling reenergized and refreshed, the old bully left his house, hobbling out to the garage, where he kept the secret he had stolen last night: a 1982 DeLorean converted into a time machine by local scientist, Emmett Brown. The day before, Biff instantly knew something was up when he saw Doc as he was. In this timeline, the ex-inventor was 95, retired and living in a senior citizen community. Though he was the same guy as before, he had slowed considerably.

Getting in and starting the engine, Biff backed out and was on JFK Drive within two minutes. He wanted to do this early in the morning so no one would notice. Though it was still pitch black outside, there were some shoppers and people commuting to work at this hour. He hit the steering wheel in anger. _Do these buttheads ever go home? This is like Vegas._

He realized he would have to go to a more remote area for this to work. Before doing it though, he stopped at a garbage can with wheels outside Burger King to get a handful of stuff. He saw the Mr. Fusion home energy device on the car. Since they were commonplace, Biff knew how to use them. He wasn't aware, though, how much exactly was needed. To be safe, he decided to just take the whole bag. Opening the passenger door, he tried putting it on the seat. Seeing it wouldn't fit, he had to readjust it a bit. Unfortunately this cost precious time. A young woman came up to him who sounded oddly familiar.

"Uh, hey! Excuse me, buddy, what are you doing with our junk? Some guy at the Fly-Thru saw you down here!"

She was 18 year-old Marlene McFly, and had been working the Graveyard shift ever since graduating high school that past summer. There seemed to be a family tradition of McFlys working there. Her uncle Dave had worked there in the early and mid '80s in the first timeline. No doubt if this had been the original 2015, Dave might still be there, along with Marlene.

Biff stumbled for a response, and was worried she might know who he was. "One of my relatives is a trash collector and he couldn't make the rounds today, so I thought I'd help him out."

Marty McFly's daughter looked a bit puzzled by that. "Oh, yeah, and I'm going to be the J-Lo of the 2010s, Please, don't be such a ziphead, mister!" A realization hit her. "Hey, I've seen you before, haven't I? You look like Biff Tannen. My grandpa, George, says he kicked your sorry butt when you guys were my age. He made you wax his car all the time in the 80s too," she giggled.

Biff thought for a minute and said, "No, I'm really not Biff. I look like him, but trust that I'm not. My name is Lester." He saw no harm in lying and posing as someone else. He figured he was about to change the timeline anyway.

As Marlene went to the passenger side of the car, she remarked, "My dad told me about this car. What is it called, a DeLube? A DeLornadune? He says his old friend Doc had one of these."

Old Biff said, "It's a DeLorean," as she went to try and retrieve the garbage liner from the car. She struggled a little, tossing her hair back and squatted with outstretched feet trying to pick it up.

Biff thought fast and went up to her, he said, "Hey, what's that?" He pointed the other way. She got up, let go of the bag and said, "Oh, what is it over there?" Biff stumbled back to the driver's seat just in time. Marlene called "Hey!" but by than, he was already hovering a few feet in the air. He was so happy to be able to pull that trick on someone, especially a McFly, since he had fallen for it for years, ever since some guy named Calvin Klein did it in 1955. He adjusted the bag and reached across the car to shut the door as he took back to the skyway.

The plan worked, to an extent. At least he had fuel for Mr. Fusion. He decided he'd better go to a less populated part of town. Most of the city and the surrounding areas were incorporated by now. He decided to follow above 395 heading west, towards Grass Valley. Even now, there was still a gap of a few miles in between the two Valley towns.

Once he was about 3 miles west of Hill Valley, he decided to give it a try. He landed the car on the side of the road briefly and loaded up Mr. Fusion with old Whopper and soda remnants as well as some futuristic wrappers. These didn't look much different than old-fashioned ones, except for flashing lights telling what kind of food it was. Once the device was almost full, he was satisfied and got back in the car and looked at the time circuits.

_So, that's what this display is for. And this is why this keypad looks like an old touch-tone phone._ He popped a switch that looked like a clutch, and hearing a little beeping noise, he lit up, proud of his discovery. The time circuits currently read:

DESTINATION TIME.

October 21, 2015.

4:29 PM

PRESENT TIME.

October 22, 2015.

5:17 AM

LAST TIME DEPARTED.

October 26th, 1985.

10:31 AM

Just as a test run, Biff decided to take it 5 minutes into the future, setting the destination time for 5:22 AM. Bracing himself for the trial run, he hovered just high enough off the road to be safely out of the way of any road cars that could come along in the next 5 minutes. He was low enough though, to be cleared from the skyway above.

Accelerating, he assumed you had to reach 88 MPH, just like the label said. As it got closer, he braced himself, not knowing exactly how it would travel through time. He found out soon enough.

5:22 AM.

It was still the same outside, there was a few cars in the distance, but not close enough to see what went on. Luckily for Biff, they were heading the opposite way. Looking out in amazement, the aging man thought _Son of a gun. That crazy old man invented something that works. I'll be damned if I know how, but I'm sure gonna use it now!_

He had fully intended to give the almanac to his younger self in 1955 so as to make what he had left of his life better. However, he didn't exactly think he'd stumble across another time machine next week. He decided to go somewhere else first.


	3. The Big Detour

January 1st, 1885.

12:00 AM.

3 miles outside of Hill Valley, California.

The former auto detailer couldn't believe his eyes when he again burst through a flash and three sonic booms. He was suddenly out above a field in the complete blackness over where the future Route 395 would be. He wasn't far from Hilldale either. There was a trail roughly covering the same path now.

In the distance, somewhere he faintly heard cheering and what sounded like gunshots, which he presumed to be for the New Years celebration. Biff realized he must actually be in the past and was looking out the windows, managing to accidentally switch off the hover conversion. The car pointed down, lowering toward the ground slowing down to about 30 MPH.

This wouldn't be a problem normally, but Biff accidentally hit a tree branch in the darkness. That coupled with the landing caused the time circuits to blink the destination time on and off. The old man started to panic a little, wondering if they were going to scramble, and possibly strand him in the Middle Ages if he tried to get back. After 10 or 15 seconds of the annoying blinking, he took the base of his cane and hit it a few times until it finally stopped.

Realizing it would be too dangerous to look for a landing spot at this hour, he decided to go ahead later that day. He also made sure to stay high up in the air during temporal displacement. Airplanes wouldn't be invented until 1903, a full 18 years after this incident, so it's not like he'd worry about a collision with one. Accelerating to 88 miles an hour, he set the time circuits for the same day, at 12 PM instead of AM.

January 1st, 1885.

12:00 PM.

Biff shielded himself as the sky suddenly turned bright in a heartbeat. He certainly had never seen anything like that before. In his own time, Biff had still only woken up about an hour or two ago. He was feeling pretty awake, so he wanted to explore the hometown of his past. He had recalled stories about his great grandfather, nicknamed Mad Dog Tannen. He was a wild outlaw and Biff wondered how true all this was.

His grandma Gertrude -- who passed away in 1963 at age 82 -- had told Biff about him on the rare occasions where they got along. Even she didn't remember too much about him from when she was a young girl in the 1880s. In the original timeline, which was identical at this point, Buford had finally been imprisoned for multiple murders by 1888. He lived the rest of his life in and out of jail or on the run, until his death near Sacramento in a 1912 shootout.

Old Biff snapped back to reality for a moment. Before he could do any sightseeing, he had to think up another plan. First was where to leave the DeLorean. If it was left in plain sight, it could be stolen from someone very similar to him. He laughed at that realization a little. However, no one would know what a car was in this year, and that could cause a lot of problems.

He hovered towards town. He kept wishing to himself he had made this trip at least 20 or even 10 years earlier. The hard thing was that he had to move carefully and hide the car, but he couldn't walk very well anymore. It would take him a lot longer to get around and that would only tire him and make his mission harder. He even contemplated going back to 1985 and getting his younger self to do this, but that would be too complicated. Might as well go for it if he'd gone this far. He was a lifelong fan of cowboys and Western movies, and was curious to find out how the locals would react to him. 

Hovering directly above the town square, there was a platform below and it looked like there would be something built there.

_The clocktower. That's where they're going to be building here! I'm gonna see it before it's here._ Biff rejoiced to himself.

It was 12:10 PM and there were a few people out walking the streets on the mildly overcast but still sunny day. Seeing that there was no surefire place he could hide the time machine, he flew back toward the edge of town.

He considered stashing it near the train stop at the entrance of town. There were trees in the distance and it wouldn't be much of a walk, but, on the off chance someone might see it, he decided to explore a little more and would use it as a last resort. Following the railroad tracks a mile or more up and circling around town, he noticed an abandoned silver mine. It seemed more deserted than a ghost town. It was covered too. _That's it. No one will find the time machine in there!_

Very slowly and carefully landing it, he inched inside the building, which was old even for that time. The shack to the right of it was open and he drove into it. _It's like a one car garage!_

Getting some nearby brush to cover part of the car up, he started slowly walking towards town. There was enough room to walk along the railroad tracks, or if he cut across the hilly landscape it would be shorter. The terrain was not the smoothest land imaginable. He had to take very small steps, resting on his cane after every few yards.

At 12:45, after that painstaking walk, he finally made it onto the main street of town. Before long, he came across a friendly seeming guy.

"Well, howdy fella! Y' new in town?"

Biff nodded in agreement. This guy seemed harmless so far. "Yeah I guess I am."

"My name is Billy Bob Smith. What might yours be?" 

People were definitely friendlier. He was unprepared to give an alias. It's not like anyone would know who he was or would live long enough to possibly connect Biff Tannen's 1937 birth to some old man in town for one day. Still he fibbed. "Well, I'm Biff Thomas. I live near Grass Valley and I just wanted to come over here for a change of plans." He prayed there weren't any Thomas' in this time that he didn't know of. Thomas was his actual middle name. He liked being able to use it as a multi-functioning name.

The man bought it. "Sure's nice meeting you, Mr. Thomas. I'm interested in guns. In fact I sell Colt Peacemakers sometimes. You got a gun, mister, or d'ya wanna buy one off me? Only 12 dollars."

He realized he didn't have money on him, at least none that was invented yet. Pointing to himself, he said, "Hello! Hello, anybody home?" Turning to Billy Bob, he said, "I've got nothing on me, partner."

Billy Bob just shot back, "Well, what the hey? If you promise to pay me within a week, it's yours. Free of charge."

Surprised, Biff said, "Thanks a lot. I'll be paying you, for sure. I'm not a loser." He thought in this day and age, it wouldn't hurt to have another weapon on him. Besides, he was sure he'd be gone soon. The gun theft wouldn't be traced in the future.

As the friendly man left, he needed to think about what to do next. _Should I forget the whole thing now and go home? Just call it a fun day? Do I want to just go to 1955 now where I at least know what it's like and get the almanac out of the way? That was the reason I stole the time machine after all._

Deciding just to stay a little longer, he crept down the main street. First thing he saw was a blacksmith shop where other horses were getting shoed. Straight ahead was the center of town. It looked like a dusty, frontier town, just like the ones portrayed in Westerns he had seen. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed some placed called The Palace Saloon, just up ahead an on the left.

_I know this place! It's gotta be it. This is where I bullied that little Irish Bug when he was still a wimp. Or this is where it will be._ He beamed, now satisfied and nostalgic for knowing exactly where he was in proportion to where he'd spent his whole life.

With the mild, comfortable sun shining down on him, Biff entered the bar, not knowing what to find. Gliding the flimsy wooden double doors open with his modified cane, he looked around in surprise. It was much bigger than he had always known it to be, and the counter wasn't in front. A few heads turned to look at him, but it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Every other business in that spot had the same general layout. Lou Caruthers owned his café/restaurant from before Biff was even born, turning it into a malt shop for most of the 50s and early 60s. The restaurant continued until Lou died in 1982. His son, Lou Jr., opened up a successful fitness and aerobics center there, which lasted until 1994, Even than, when the counter was removed, the building structure was similar. It became a busy Starbucks with an Internet Café until 2009, before becoming the Café 80s it was now in 2015.

Biff didn't quite know what he wanted to do in this place, but he got in and somewhat unnoticed, sat at an empty table directly straight ahead of the door, near a spittoon. His mind suddenly stopped when he noticed a guy wearing a big, cowboy type hat who sure looked like Marty, but about 10 years older and with a moustache. He immediately retracted back toward a large table and staring intently. _Did that punk find out what I did, or what I will do in 1955 and he came here to stop me? Must've taken the dumb kid 10 years and a disguise to figure it out! And, why isn't that old man here with him?_

Suddenly he saw a gray-haired middle-aged guy with a slight country accent say to him, "So Seamus, you enjoyin' that fine ol' Whiskey?"

"Aye, certainly, Chester," replied the Irish accented, warm sounding man. "It always helps take me mind off some of the hard things in life, y'know. Maggie, she's been a bit uneasy and restin' herself at the farm now after William's birth on Christmas Day."

Sounding a little calmer, the barkeeper said, "I haven't seen Maggie in a couple months now. Send her my regards, and if y'ever need me to watch William or anything, don't'cha hesitate to ask me."

"Thank ye. I might possibly take y'up on that. For now I'll just have to put my mind to farming, like I always did back home. She and I moved out here in 1881 from Virginia City, after the unfortunate thing happened with me younger brother, Martin."

At that moment, the silence was broken when the doors burst open and a voice known all around town spoke up.

"Hey, McFly!"

In came a dirty looking cowboy and three of his cronies. He stood out like a sore thumb. His body odor was unbelievable, even by Wild West standards. This guy probably didn't take whatever their equivalent of a shower was in months. He had rotten, yellowing teeth, along with breath worse than you could ever get, even in the morning, without Listerine. He looked a bit older than his 28 years with weeks upon weeks of an unshaven, dark, thick beard. Old Biff watched in amazement at all he was seeing and hearing.

Seamus turned around and softly said, "Aye."

"I done ran into you in the street before. What might yer business be in here?" He turned to his friends, laughing.

Trying to be as nice as possible, Marty's great, great-grandfather said, "Just having a social drink or two at the moment."

"I was in this town befo' you was, dude! I get to say who goes where." Pointing to his holster, he said, "See this thang here? It's loaded up and ready to do some killin' if need be. I ain't aimin' to use it today, but that don't change nothing. McFly, I still say if I was you, I wouldn't come in here again. If you do, I might just have to shoot up a six-string circus!"

One of his buddies turned to him. "Buford, I think you mean a three-ring circus."

Seamus obviously thought these guys were jerks to say the least, but he wouldn't get into a fight unless he had to. He was a muscular, fast guy who could take care of himself, but saw no point in giving in to fools like this. He simply got up from the barstool.

"Aye, Mr. Tannen, I'm hopin' there's no hard feelings comin' from this. I won't be comin' back if that's what ya want."

"Good man, McFly, you better not," threatened the criminal, as the mild mannered McFly headed out the door calmly.


	4. An Unexpected Meeting

Biff couldn't have been more surprised than he was right now. He realized the McFly in question must have been George's great-grandpa. He looked more like Marty, especially for the few generations in between them. The tough guy was called Tannen, so this had to be the outlaw ancestor he heard so much about. The fact that he was looking him right in the flesh was amazing. Before he could catch his breath and take anything else in, Buford spotted him.

"What 'da h*ll you doin' in here, old timer?"

Knowing it was too late to leave now, he played along with it. Despite the fear he felt, he mustered up all his courage and pretended to be of the time. "Just watching you take care of McFly. Everyone in his family is a chicken. Good job on drivin' out that loser."

"How d'you know about any other McFlys? Seamus, that coward farmer is the only one I done know of! Did you know his grand daddy or somethin'?"

Something was the key word. Before he could respond, one of the guys grabbed Biff's cane off the wooden table where it was laying.

"Hey boss, take a peek at this fancy stick the old codger got himself! What kin'a gold thing is this on top? I wonder if this be worth something! What d'you got to say for this, grandpa?"

Thinking fast, Biff knew how unlucky he was to have that here. "It's fake gold, not worth anything. I did it like that on purpose so I could hit people hard enough. I can't move so good now. I was pretty wild, you know. I used to kick the sh*t out of people when I was young! I even got a gun on me now."

The foursome was beginning to think the old man was all right. His infamous ancestor still wanted proof.

"Oh yeah. I ain't never heard of a dude your age who was barely livin', let alone doin' able to do any of that! Well, if you be who you say you was, let's all see it! Why don't chu take care of someone, one mo' time befo' you keel over, huh? Won't that be fun, boys?" The gang all agreed to that.

Biff was beginning to think he might have gotten himself into something way too deep. Sure, he was mean and especially in his youth, liked to pick on people. However, he didn't want to commit an armed robbery on someone here who wasn't robbed in the original timeline. He could be arrested easily (and therefore really stuck here for life). He considered shooting the foursome, but thought better of it. They were much faster, in better shape and more armed than him. Even more so, if he killed his own ancestor, his grandpa's little brother, who was born in 1886, would never exist. In the end, he decided to go along with it.

"Yeah. I'll knock off anyone or anyplace, you just name it."

"Here's what I'd be dyin' to see, old timer!" Buford Tannen continued talking to his descendant. "I been having problems with da local blacksmith! He's a real smart mouth, always tryin' to say some'um' ain't his fault! One time, I been hauling stuff I robbed in a wagon, and the wheels wasn't lined up. I also gots my horse re-shoed twice now, and every time he says he done it good, but the horse keeps throwing it off!"

"You want me to shoot the b*st*rd as a grand finale, right?"

This wasn't quite what Buford had in mind. "Well, if you want to, I sure ain't gonna mind! I killed a few men who got in my way befo! The first time I shot a man was when I been 14 and runnin' away from home and some lawman, he tried to stop me! Coupl'a years later, I done my first killin' after a bank robbery. But, I just wanna watch you holdin' the no-good liar up and robbin' the place!"

"Robbing the blacksmith, huh? If I know there's no sheriff out here to put me away, I guess that won't hurt, now." His descendant was a little unoptimistic, but now suddenly felt a connection with his former relative and his outlaw buddies. He now thought they might protect him from the police, instead of the other way around.

Buck, one of the guys said, "H'yup! We'd love to see how much o'this stuff is true about you! That'd be dang ol' hilarious to see." He asked Buford, "Boss, what do ya say if this goes off without a hitch, we let the old guy keep a fifth of the cash?"

"A fifth? You mean 5 times as much? Well, not until we commit 4 mo robberies!"

He corrected his leader friend. "Uh, Buford, a fifth is just somethin' that's 5 times less than the original. Like 1 outta 5 fingers, that's how much he'll be getting'."

The criminal's voice rose, as he got impatient, yet excited, "Yeah boys! A fifth will be just fine, I just wanna take care of that runt!"

The fivesome headed slowly out the door, in order for Biff to keep up. Turning right out of the saloon, where business slowly went back to normal, they headed up just a few hundred yards in the overcast sunlight. It was the beginning of winter, so it was actually pretty comfortable.

"I'll be d*mned, that's what used to be here! This is the Texaco station."

"What kinda station," cried Buford.

"Nothing, I was just thinking to myself. Now do you want me to go in first?" He was still not quite sure if this was the best idea, but decided to make it as easy as possible. "I'm going to make it quiet so the law doesn't get us."

Stubble said, "Yeah, fine, whatever you gotta do. Don't be worried about getting' arrested! We'll shoot 'em off if they come around!

Entering the blacksmith shop, Biff tried to keep a low profile as Buford followed a distance behind him and the gang guarded the door, just in case. The main area was lightly furnished as a living area. There was a small bed, some clothes and a few material possessions. Biff tried to tell himself not to be so paranoid. It's not like back home in 2015, or even in the 1940s when he was a kid, for that matter. People couldn't exactly call 911 or get a SWAT team out here. He assumed many more crimes went unpunished and unknown in this era. That still didn't stop him from being conscious though.

As they entered the work area, a nice looking man in his 30s was busy shoeing a horse and working with some tools. He noticed Biff. "Well, top of the mornin' to ya, mister! What can I do you for today?" He used the old time slang of rearranging two words.

Feeling very apprehensive about robbing a guy like this, Biff ultimately decided it was best to get it over with, especially considering he had four armed guys now on his side for who he claimed to be, which was somewhat true, just not yet. Sweating and nervous, the old codger took out the free Colt Peacemaker he had just got, pointing it at the man, but without a finger on the trigger.

"Hey buddy! This is a stickup! I just need all the money you got, move it!"

The look on the blacksmith's face was one of utter shock. He had heard about lifelong criminals, but the idea that a guy this old, who couldn't even walk very good while standing up straight, was robbing him at gunpoint wasn't setting in. When he froze and kept thinking to himself, Biff wanted to get support from Buford & the gang and pretended he was for real.

"I'm not kiddin' butthead! I might be old, but I'm a career criminal and I can still shoot you! You see this guy behind me? You try to jump me, he'll be on your a** in a second!"

Behind him, his ancestor said, "Hee-yeah!" as he whirled his gun in his hand at lightning speed. "The fastest gun in the west, that's what 'dey call me! Listen to the old fella, and give it up!"

Realizing it was for real, the guy panicked in his mind. "Okay, I'll get everything we've got, just please don't shoot, partner!"

He rummaged through all the cash given by townsfolk for al the work he did. He was the only blacksmith and handyman in town after all. There were a few more in the slightly bigger town of Grass Valley, which was 9 miles away. In the days of walking or horses, the trip would take about three hours on foot and at least 45 minutes on the average horse. He amassed quite a bit, but still feared it wouldn't be enough for the robbers.

"All, all I've got here is 300 dollars, y'all. Here it is!" He handed it over to Biff and was looking extremely worried. 'You all do realize this is gonna put me out of business, right? I'm the only blacksmith in town."

Buford had to say a piece on this. "What in d'h*ll do you think I care 'bout that fo? Won't you cry to somebody who do! You can't even shoe my horse right! You prob'ly ain't shoein' nobody else's either! Have a good day, smithy!" After this, Biff turned around and they headed out of the shop. The gang could overhear everything and were laughing and high-fiving each other.

"Hey, that was pretty good for ya! Y'must've been a h*llraiser in your day," Ceegar said as Biff gave Buford the stolen loot. As the three gang members counted it, they took $220 to split amongst themselves, while giving Biff $80. "Here's 80 bucks for you!"

"Yeah, it felt so nice to pull one of those again, you know! Thanks for lettin' me keep this. You can't lose if you've got a gun!"

The gang was happy now. Before they rode off, Buford asked one more thing. "I ain't ever heard of you 'fore today. What's your name, old dude?" He decided to use a different alias than he'd given the Colt salesman, just in case the blacksmith overheard. "The name is John Wayne. I don't really live around here. I'm from Placerville and was just visiting."

"Well, Wayne, I loved watchin' you robbin' the blacksmith today! Maybe we'll be seein' you again!"

Biff said his goodbyes as the foursome remounted their horses and rode off into the distance. Just a minute or two after the showdown, as he sat down on the dusty ground, he saw a familiar sight, which stopped him in his tracks.

"Howdy there Mr. Thomas! Surprised t'be seein' you again so soon. How ya likin' that gun? Ya fired off any rounds yet?" He said with happiness and energy.

Not wanting to say what he had actually just done, but not wanting to disappoint him, Biff told a half-truth. "You bet I'm lovin' it, and here's some money for it!" He reached out for the freshly stolen money. Just like in the future, it was all 20s, 10s and 5s, but no single bills. "All I've got is a 10 and a 5, and it was 12."

The surprisingly nice guy rounded down. "Tell ya what! 10 will do fine. Consider the other 2 dollars your own. I'm not takin' it back either. Hey listen, I'm going to get a drank in the bar here, but maybe I'll see you again sometime. If not, than happy trails!"

"Thanks about that," Biff said as he considered a way to get back to the DeLorean. He didn't want to walk it again. He headed back into the shop. "Hey blacksmith, I can't walk it back, gimmie a horse!"

Within minutes, and with some difficulty mounting the horse while keeping hold of his cane, he headed back towards the hidden time machine. He still couldn't believe his mind about the luck he had today. He would've felt bad about cheating out Billy Bob for the money. He was just glad that he didn't have to go try and find him now. Plus, he still had 70 bucks left, as well as a very memorable and positive encounter with his great-grandpa.

All the stories he heard were true, though they'd been passed down going through a few people before reaching him. He couldn't believe it how similar Buford and his gang were to him and his own gang in 1955. With the joking, troublemaking and everything else, it was pretty similar compared to the respective time periods. When he made it back to 2015, he would certainly have plenty of stories now. The only frustrating thing is he would have to keep them to himself.

It was 1:30 in the afternoon when he reached the abandoned silver mine. As much fun as he had on this trip, he knew had had to get moving. Inching into the seat, he backed out very slowly before immediately going high up into the sky. He assumed no one would be here, but still thought it would be a good idea to keep out of the eyes of any possible witnesses. Hovering above the outer edges of his future hometown, Biff looked down at it one last time. _Damn! Why didn't I bring that instant camera?_ He thought aloud. It wasn't likely he'd have the shot to do this ever again, but just doing it was enough for now, he supposed.

It was time to get his mind on something else now. Speeding up and setting the time circuits, he had to get on track and do what he came to do.


	5. Parking, Hitchhinking, Checking in

November 11th, 1955.

9:00 PM

Hill Valley, California.

The sonic booms sounded hundreds of feet above Clayton Ravine, near Marty's future neighborhood of Hilldale, where Biff originally stole the time machine. Biff thought that if it was Friday night, people could still be up and hear this.

He however remembered how desolate this area was. There was some light traffic and the occasional Friday night cruisers, but nothing compared to 1985 or 2015, where it was a built-up, suburban area with heavy traffic. He considered hiding the car out here, near the ravine. He realized though, the blessing of it being a ghost town out here could also be the downfall. How would he get from here into town?

He tipped the sports car back up into the night sky, hoping and pretty sure there wouldn't be a low flying airplane out. He went east, towards the center of town and where the Lone Pine Mall would be built in 1971. There were plenty of farmhouses out there where he could hide the car.

_If I did it back in that Western Hill Valley, I won't have a problem in 1955, _he thought.

He wanted to have an aerial look at his hometown he remembered from 60 years ago, but didn't dare get low enough for the car to be seen. That wouldn't be good. After about 10 minutes, after passing over town, he reached the Peabody farm, now called Twin Pines Ranch. Otis would change it to Lone Pine in 1957, when he gave up trying to replace the tree that he claimed some space zombie bastard had ran over.

Old Biff knew not to risk having him see the time machine. In this time, that would be twice in under a week. He started to wonder if the space zombie Peabody was always ranting about could've been Marty on a trip to 1955. He recalled how similar that Calvin Klein guy he knew for a week looked compared to George & Lorraine's second son in 1985. Klein had disappeared after only a week in town, leaving a very angry Biff behind, and Marty & Doc were talking about a time machine like it was a casual thing back in 2015. Calvin Klein hung out with Doc from 1955 as well. The pieces were beginning to fit.

Those thoughts would have to go on hold for now though. Hovering above the sparse Route 395 heading east very slowly. After passing Peabody's farm, going this direction would lead straight out into the hills and away from civilization. He knew about abandoned farmhouses out here, but anyone's memory could get cloudy after this many years.

A little under two miles from the farm, and about four from downtown Hill Valley, he saw the perfect place. It was an unlocked barn covered in hay and whatever other elements had come its way since it was let go, probably sometime earlier in the century.

Landing the car behind it (just in case anyone drove by), he went to make sure it would be safe to park in for a day or so, and the dang thing wouldn't cave in on the car or anything else like that. Hobbling over to the neglected swinging door, he bashed off the rusted and flimsy lock with his cane pretty easily. Hoping for the best, he slowly undid the door. Just like on the outside, there were a few bales of hay inside as well, and a few ancient looking tools, such as a pick and shovel.

_I can use these as a weapon_, he thought. If anyone should find him in here, like Doc or Marty, even though that was unlikely, he still liked the idea.

Just than, he found that he still had his gun with him from the almost too friendly salesman, Billy Bob. He thought that would be a better thing to keep on him, just in case anything went wrong. Going back over to the car, he drove it in the old-fashioned way.  He also took the most important feature of all, the plastic bag with the future sports almanac in it. Imagine if he went through all the trouble to steal the time machine and track down his younger self only to discover he'd forgotten the book in the car. Talk about what a wasted trip that would be!

He had to get moving and wanted to make it into town soon. He knew exactly where and when to find his younger self the next day, so he couldn't risk being late for that. He slowly crossed the road so he would be on the same side as those heading for Hill Valley.

Even at this late hour, there were quite a few people out driving on the mini thoroughfare. Before long, a man driving a turquoise '48 Thunderbird screeched to a halt to pick the old man up.

"I didn't even see you standing there until it was too late. If you're going into town, get in the passenger seat."

Biff recognized the man and begrudgingly took his place in the front seat. Of everyone who could've stopped for him, why did it have to be Samuel Baines, Lorraine's father? The 45 year-old man, who looked and seemed much older, hastily pulled into traffic.

Biff improvised. "Yes, that's right. I was just coming into town and my car ran out of gas a little while back there." He hoped this guy wouldn't grill him about it like he tended to do with people.

"Well, why were you going out if you didn't have a full tank? Excuse me for saying, sir, but only an idiot would do that!"

Yep, this was clearly the guy he remembered back in the day. Biff was already angry at a guy who was, by now, long dead. "If I noticed it runnin' down, you don't think I'd leave it that way, would you?"

Changing the subject, he asked, "So where are you headed, Mr. Baines?

"What do you think? I'm not a kid anymore; I'm going home on a Friday night. I just came from the Indian casino up in the hills." Softening up a little, Baines continued, "Listen pal, I don't mean to come off this way, but I've just been under some stress. My daughter Lorraine is going to a school dance tomorrow. Now I know she's 18 in a couple of weeks, she's not a little girl anymore, so that would be okay with me, but this kid named Calvin Klein who calls himself _Marty_ is going with her. Whatever his name is, he's a moron."

Biff instantly knew who that was. "I know that punk, Klein," he said, almost as angry as his current 1955 self would've said it. "His whole family too, they're all losers, especially his old man!"

Lightening up a little, Sam told his passenger about the mysterious young man. "I met him when he was in the house for awhile last week. I can't tell you how jumpy he was. He was watching Jackie Gleason with us at the dinner table and claimed he'd seen one of the new episodes. He said something about John F. Kennedy, whoever the hell that is."

As they passed the to-be built Lyon Estates and got closer to town, Old Biff could now never deny that Calvin Klein and Marty McFly were the same person. It sure cleared up a lot. Sam looked straight ahead and continued, in a deadpan manner, "Do you know what's worse?"

Biff asked, "No? What cold be worse than the future town loser going out with your daughter?"

"My wife, Stella, thinks he's a nice boy and a good date for Lorraine because he claims to be in the Coast Guard. She thinks he's a little strange, but I go too hard on him. What is it with wives sometimes," he echoed the sentiment of many men of the time.

Biff was positive that Mr. Baines would never catch on to who he really was. _It's not like the old grump knows I've time traveled here! In fact, nobody knows about time travel._

With this in mind, he said something about his younger self. "Do you know who Lorraine should've gone to the dance with? Biff Tannen! I know he's a butthead sometimes, but he's a cooler kid than Mc, err, Klein is. The least that broad could do is give Biff a chance in his life instead of blowing him off," a certain sadness and anger emitted in the last sentence.

Sam was inquiring to this. "What concern do you have about Tannen, mister, what's your name?"

He decided to use the same nickname. "Thomas."

"Listen Mr. Thomas, I think Tannen is even worse. Klein is just a bouncy idiot, but Biff Tannen is a real troublemaker. He and his friends used to throw eggs at my car windows when he was younger. Now he causes all kind of trouble around town, he's probably going to end up in jail someday." He suddenly came out of his position and turned toward the old man in an almost threatening way, "Tell me again why you suggest my daughter date a hooligan like that! I don't care how old she is, she could date Tannen when they are 40, and I'll still disown her. I don't stand for that in my family!"

Biff really did regret the way he used to be, to some extent. When George punched him (or, from a matter of present time, would punch him) it made him mad and lonely, but it made him look at his life differently. He still didn't like Sam Baines being such a jerk and saying these things about a guy he didn't even know, not to mention speaking that way about his own kids.

"Hey, hey Biff is a wild and mean kid sometimes," his own voice suddenly rose as he gripped his cane tighter. "But, you ain't gonna judge him on a few pranks. In fact, after today, he might even be richer than you could imagine. Rich enough to be a legend."

Sam Baines was taken aback that an old man was defending an obnoxious, sometimes dangerous person, and a 17 year-old, no less. "Oh, yeah? Who the hell are you, his grandpa?"

Inside, he had to laugh at that, but knew he had to make a cover up. "No, but let's just say I know of him pretty well," slight sarcasm coming through.

The balding middle-aged father decided to let it go as they were entering the Courthouse Square. "I'm sorry about that. Now, where was it you wanted to go?"

He remembered a certain hotel that was very inexpensive. "Well, just the Bluebird Motel would be okay. At least until I can find a place to stay."

Sam didn't quite know what he meant by that, but agreed to it, as he made another turn and approached the Inn. Slowing the car to a stop within eyesight of the Courthouse, h let Biff out. "Very well. Here we are, Mr. Thomas, it's nice to meet you, and have a nice stay here."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Biff half barked as he shut the door and slowly went inside with his few possessions of the time: The concealed almanac, the technically 70 year-old stolen money and a handgun.

Satisfied with his actions as of yet, Biff slowly walked into the small front desk area of the motel. It appeared to be empty inside, but there were faint noises of a radio in the background. He said his famous catchphrase, "Hello, hello! Anybody home?" Within seconds, a middle-aged man popped out from the back room, looking fairly cheerful.

"Oh, hi there sir. I'm sorry about that, me and the boys were just listenin' to a Marx Brothers radio show." Fixing his shirt, he sat down and continued, "So, what can I get you for tonight?"

"Well, how much is one room, it's all I need," he said rather abruptly.

One room? Oh, it's not much. In fact, it's the place most travelers on a budget come. Eight dollars on the T. We take cash. Just sign your name here," the man continued.

_No, not again_.

Biff wanted to go five minutes without having to use a name. Now, he'd have to come up with a first name too, and he couldn't use his own. _Hey, how many guys named Biff were really around anyway? I can't use that anymore, even if I do use Thomas. Since that's my middle name, they might have more reason to think I'm my own relative! Buttheads!_

He banged the bottom of his cane into the ground with disgust and confusion. In order to stall time, he took the guy up on the first thing he said. "You like the Marx Brothers? I can remember they were big when I was a kid."

"Oh, they're very witty. Many people like their television sets now. I have one, but I ain't about to give the radio up for pictures neither." Slowing down, he got a confused look on his face. "Wait a minute, you just said they were big when you were a kid. But, it, they, their hey day was just m-m-maybe 15 years ago," he stuttered.

_Just proof that I've gotta be careful having normal conversation while time traveling. Why did I discover that too late?_ _Now I've got two problems to fix, instead of one._

Brainstorming, he said, "I said that just because it seems that long ago. I would've liked them than too. It's just that my name is Groucho, just like one of them. Groucho Thomas. I thought that was real funny too." He tried to laugh at his own pre-assembled lie.

"Well I can imagine why, Mr. Thomas!" Biff knew he'd again won. After Biff paid 8 stolen dollars for the room, the motel employee lit up. "By Lordie, this is antique money. It looks brand new as well; it says _1874_ here. I'm keepin' this as a collector's item. I bet you had this stuff since you was a young'in."

"Just some old bills laying around. Keep it for yourself if you want."

Old Biff liked his niceness, as it was a change to guys like Mr. Baines, but he was wishing the man would shut up before Biff died of old age. Reaching into a compartment, the man handed him a little key attached to a plastic thing with the room number on it. "Now, you're in room 42, have a nice stay. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

He mumbled a half-hearted "Yeah" to himself as he trudged along to his room.

It was a cold November night, as the old man could see his frosty breath in front of him. Knowing how chatty and curious that guy was, Biff wondered how he'd react if he'd seen the DeLorean, a flying one at that!

Opening up his room with an old-fashioned key, instead of the electronic cards widely used in the not-so-distant future, he looked around the sparse settings. There was a single Queen-sized bed, a nightstand with a light, a small radio, and, of course, a bathroom. He wanted something to keep his attention, and that was hard without a TV. There weren't any magazines or books here either. As much as he liked the time period from his own memories, he had to admit it was somewhat boring compared to 60 years ahead.

Setting his gun carefully in the nightstand drawer, he took the toted almanac out of the already wrinkling plastic bag. He wondered how much of this he'd remember. It had been 15 years since the last game was played, and the print was fairly small, allowing them to cram all that information into a maybe 150-200 paged paperback.

Florida beat the Marlins in '97. They got that one right I watched that game.

He knew he would deliver it to his younger self tomorrow afternoon, when he picked his manure-filled car from his former friend, Terry, one of the town mechanics. He wondered what exactly his other self would say to him. He had seen what other people had to say about the 60 years older version of 1955 Biff. He even saw his own criminal ancestor face to face, and with a little cover story, managed to get along with him.

Even in comparison, it all was nothing. While he clearly remembered himself, he was sure his younger self wouldn't know who he was. However, what truly made him nervous was exactly how 17 year-old Biff would react to 77 year-old Biff. What if he told the old man to just get lost and wouldn't even listen to himself (literally)?

_Hey, who better to know me than, well, me_, he said to himself. Still reeling from all he'd made himself do, with it not even done yet, he drifted off to sleep fully clothed, much like one Marty McFly would often do.

Before too long, he began dreaming. However, this was unlike any other dream the old man had before. All he saw was what looked to be a much busier version of his hometown. There weren't yet any flying cars or futuristic technology, but he knew it was sometime past the 80s, just from the way some of the kids were dressing. It was a scary place, yet he himself had no idea what was going on. He felt relieved momentarily when he spotted the woman who had been his slightly obsessive romantic interest since he was in Elementary School: Lorraine Baines.

It didn't quite look like the pretty Lorraine he'd known who was married to George McFly and played tennis. She was attractive, but looked more around-the-block with drugs and alcohol. He sensed he was seeing this world through his own eyes. At this moment, a possibly 55 or 60 year-old version of Lorraine turned around with venomous anger, heading straight for him, she screamed, "You bastard, I should've done this a long time ago, you worthless piece of!"

Her voice was cut off by the sheer force of her shooting with a large handgun into his face. The only sound in the world was that of the trigger being pulled at point blank range.

Biff awoke in more fright than he'd almost ever been in before, gasping like he had been shot for real. Quickly checking around the room, he saw his own gun was right where he'd left it no less than a couple hours ago. He loudly shouted, "Anybody here with me?"

Needless to say, there was no answer. Biff must've thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him because of time travel. He opted for a little distraction. Because there was no TV, he opted for the next best thing, the bedside radio.

There wouldn't be any music, and probably not much news, sports or anything else, but anything was better than the eerie silence. There was no FM radio, so he only had one setting to scan for stations. After coming up with mostly static and other 'Dead' noises, he finally located a droning, boring sounding man's voice. It sounded like one of those old infomercials he remembered making fun of.

_Oh well, at least this dork is better than nothing_, the time traveler thought out loud.

After about half an hour, Biff decided to try once again for some sleep. He tossed and turned, hoping this dream was a one-time occurrence. After about half the night in peaceful sleep, the dreams were back.

It was the exact same as before, where a 50something Lorraine shoots him at close range. This time, knowing what would happen, he tried scrambling out of the way, fighting, or anything to avoid getting shot. Whenever he would try, he'd be paralyzed with fear and literally couldn't move, thereby allowing him to witness his own shooting, and probable death.

Just as he was about to scream, something else interrupted his thoughts, a loud buzzing noise. _Could it be the fire alarm?_ Waking up even more scared than before and sweating, he located the sound to his right. The phone was ringing!

Accidentally knocking the receiver over, he picked it back up again, "What! Who the hell is this?"

"Oh, it's the hotel, Mr. Thomas." This wasn't the same guy from last night, but a somewhat younger man. "Sorry if I got you up at a bad time, but you wanted a wake-up call at 6 o'clock this morning."

In everything that went on, it's not surprising that he forgot. "Oh, I did. Good, thanks a lot, I'll be out in an hour or something."

Hanging up the phone, Biff wanted to take a minute to decipher that dream. Why was Lorraine involved in them? More importantly, why did it revolve around his death? He thought if time travel was messing with his mind, either Marty or Doc Brown would be the central characters. They were the ones involved with him finding it out anyway.

The possibilities were endless. After spending the next hour showering and having a snack, he got going before this plan really would backfire.


	6. Back To the Cafe

November 12th, 1955.

8:00 AM.

Hill Valley, California.

Biff checked out of the Bluebird Motel with the smuggled almanac and handgun still on him. He remembered his younger self would be at Terry's shop in the early afternoon. In the meantime, he wanted to take a good look around his hometown as he remembered it in the good old days as a bully.

Coming into the Square just as the sun was shining, he hadn't gotten this much exercise in years. He actually was feeling a little better and wasn't quite as slouched over walking. Looking over at the Texaco Station (and what had been the blacksmith shop he robbed 70 years earlier, or was it just yesterday? Time travel was already confusing), memories came flooding back.

_Roy's Records. When I was 12, I jumped some little twerp for his lunch money right outside here._

Slowly cutting across Main street, he wanted to check out a place he hadn't been to for 60 years: Lou's Café, which doubled as a malt shop. It reminded him of good times, times when people still respected him, when he'd go to hit on girls – mainly Lorraine – and get in fights with kids from school. His archenemy, George McFly always went there. Biff hadn't stepped in the Café after that day. He knew he could never be taken seriously after George decked him. Knowing he obviously wouldn't be recognized now, he pushed in one of the doors and holding his cane in the other. Geez, he had now been in this place in every conceivable time period.

Bill Haley's "Rock Around the Clock" was playing in the background, as a cheerful young, black guy was happily humming along to it while cleaning the booths, which had been bustling from the after school rush the day before. Too busy looking around admiring everything; Biff didn't notice anything until he heard a stern voice.

"Excuse me, sir, are gonna order breakfast or just stand there?"

51 year-old Lou Caruthers, the owner of the place was speaking to him. He always hated this guy, partially because he took to George.

"Yeah, yeah, just some Corn Flakes and Orange Juice or something, whatever you got." Biff snapped, as Lou repeated the order in a cold voice. Biff got out 15 cents to pay, just as a very familiar figure walked in.

"George. Hey, what's happenin' buddy," said the young man working there.

"Good morning, Goldie, not too much, yet," the still somewhat wimpy voice replied.

Putting the cleaning supplies on the empty table, 22-year-old busboy Goldie Wilson went over to George. He patted him on the back. "Hey, I hear you asked this girl out the other day. I always knew you liked Lorraine. I know you're still thinkin' bout tonight, aren't ya?"

George responded to one of his only friends. "I suppose. Although my new friend, Marty, he told me what to say." After a pause, he continued, "I've, I've hardly ever even talked to a girl before, forget about asking them out. It's just that she's so popular, and I'm not. What if she thinks I'm just a dork, how am I going to have conversation with her?"

Goldie was determined to make George more confident. "No worries. I know you, boy. You got a whole other side just waitin' to come out. I know how you feel, but just talk about stuff you like, ask her about herself, I know it'll work, and one day you'll be tellin' yourself how glad you were you did!"

George began to agree. "That's what Marty said. I guess you're right. I'll tell you how it went too. I just wonder if she likes Science Fiction stories."

Sitting nearby, picking at his food, Old Biff was getting a mix of nostalgia and bitterness. Though all this sounded like what the Irish Bug would say, he never heard it firsthand. It was nice to get the inside scoop on how things developed.

Goldie continued with a spark, "That guy is smart. You r'member when he said I'll be mayor! Hey, I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm taking the garbage out." Bringing up a still fresh conversation topic, he restated, "I'm still thinking about how hilarious it was when that bozo boy Biff Tannen and his crazy friends crashed into that sh*t."

George had to laugh at that. Even the usually plain and boring Lou cracked a smile as he headed into the back office temporarily. A bell would sound if a customer walked in. Biff made a fist of rage at what was just said at his expense, and thinking of what happened to his younger self in here just a few days before. He went over to George while he was still a wimp.

"Hey, you! Come here, McFly!"

George turned around in confusion. This had sure been an interesting week for him, one that looked as if it might make his life turn out for the better. However, something was weird. Not to mention, this was the second time in this week that some unknown guy recognized him.

"Uhh, yeah, can I help you with something?"

"You don't think you know me, do you," said Biff intimidatingly. Getting up, he walked, hunched-over, close enough to George to make his eyes water. Right now, it was the two of them alone in the café until Goldie got back.

"No. How do you know me, and what do you want?"

In a way, George felt silly for being so afraid of a frail looking old man with a walking cane, but he was afraid of a lot of things.

"You think you can get one over on Biff Tannen, right? Well, he's gonna do much better than you ever will. That's right, he's gonna be rich, and he's gonna marry your date, Lorraine. One day, she might be Lorraine Baines Mc, Tannen," he corrected himself, not wanting to tell George too much about his future.

George was mighty confused now. "What, what? I'm scared of Biff, but he makes me do his work ever since we were little kids. It's easier just to do it than try and say no. Why are you after me though?"

There was another piece of extra information he had. Acting very much like his younger self, he pushed for more. "What else don't you like about Biff, huh?" The old man's voice was in almost a yell.

"Look, I don't know why you're defending him. Do you know him, are you going to tell him what I said? Please don't!"

George was backing away in fear. He prayed hard that Goldie or Lou would emerge, or some other kid from school, anyone. Seconds felt like hours.

Partially with Marty's perpetual advice in mind, George thought about his options. He knew he could easily outrun the codger. Just a side step and a dash out the door and he'd be home safe. He knew that's probably what Marty would tell him to do. The only reason he wouldn't try anything now is because he had a sneaking suspicion this old man knew Biff somehow. Why else would he defend him like this? He felt anything he did would get back to Biff, and he didn't dare think of the beating and harassing he might get then. In the end, he decided the old man wouldn't be as bad, and just went with it.

As Biff approached George threateningly, his mind suddenly flashed to 60 years of pent up anger. This was anger at the young man who had (or would) indirectly made his life a living hell. Who knew that one punch at the dance could change their lives so much?

Biff answered George. "You could say I know Biff pretty well, yeah. I'm just gonna tell you one thing, you Irish Bug. Anything he tells you, you do it, punk! Got that?"

Biff was sick of being afraid of George for all those years, starting with all the embarrassment and humiliation he faced the rest of his senor year, not to mention being the town's puppet, all because of what he did. He set the almanac and its bag down on his seat. He held his cane in his right hand. With his left, he jabbed George into the counter a few times. Despite his declining health and sickly nature, he still had some muscle left in him. He knew George was feeling the pain. Biff swatted him on the head with his cane. "McFly, you better just watch yourself!"

At that moment, Goldie had finished taking the garbage out and returned to the Café. Seeing what was going on, he dashed over to the counter in genuine concern. He knew his younger friend would be afraid of fighting back.

"Hey, pops! What the h*ll are you doin' to him? Let the poor boy alone, huh. He hasn't done nothin' to you."

Biff just teasingly shot back, "Oh yeah? I just found out about how he feels about Biff Tannen, and I-"

He was cut off mid-sentence when Lou came back out. He did hear the doors open, after all. "Hey you. I don't know how crazy you are, but I'm calling the police unless you take off right now."

Begrudgingly, Biff picked up the almanac bag and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his large red, long-sleeve shirt. Grabbing his cane in anger, he stormed out of the café, looking for his next destination.


	7. A Day On the Town

Biff made his way out of the Café quickly. As much as he'd like to bully George again and hang out there, he wouldn't risk having the police arrest him. After several minutes of slow walking, he headed back behind the town theatre and turned right, walking toward his old high school, half a mile from the Square. It wasn't far, but because of his health, it took him over 20 minutes to get there on foot.

Some teachers and administrators were already there, helping to set up for the dance, which would start at 8:00 that night. He remembered he had come there that morning to vandalize the place and had been caught by Strickland.

Sure enough, as Old Biff went around to the front door and paced reminiscently around his old hallway, he heard Young Biff's voice coming from a partially opened door, which read "S.S. Strickland. Discipline." Even though his name was Gerald, he kept that sign up as part of a serious joke.

"Well, Mr. Strickland," Young Biff said, "that detention you put on me before Halloween. I was sleeping in that morning, but I'm awake now. In fact, I ain't even been to bed yet," he said in smart-aleck fashion.

A loud, partially yelling voice erupted. "And you're telling me this now, Mr. Tannen? I should give you a whole month of detention for your constant smart mouth and all your trouble here! You were also late for school three days in a row. Talk about a slacker!"

Right now, both Biffs were a little resentful of the already bald and aged looking 38 year-old Vice Principal. "Sir, I did hit a manure truck with my car, in case you forgot. This guy Terry, who I know, is cleaning it out for me. I can't get here so easy when my car is full of sh*t."

"Watch your language in here, Tannen, " Strickland barked as he tensed up to the point of being able to see the veins on his forehead. "It serves you right, being a hooligan and chasing down that new kid, whatever his name is."

"Yeah, Calvin Klein, and he's gonna pay for this too," the almost 18 year-old said, unashamed.

"You know the rules, any fighting in school, it's an automatic suspension. I should keep you here just for saying that, and the little stunt you were trying to pull this morning. Don't you think you are a little too old to be throwing water balloons at school windows? You better get off these premises before I discipline you. And don't come back until the dance tonight, and even then, you better behave yourself" Opening his office door and halfway pushing Biff out of it, he repeated "Slacker!"

Meanwhile, Old Biff was laughing at the mention of water balloons as he rested. Leaning on some of the lockers, right next to where George had tried to ask Lorraine out the past Monday. Biff knew what to expect when his 60 years younger counterpart came out of Strickland's office. He was still in awe and said something.

"H-hey, Biff. Strickland sure is a jerk, isn't he?"

Young Biff got a little confused. "Uh, yeah he is, but how the hell did you know my name, old man?"

"Well, I used to go to school here and I remember his father."

"Strickland's father," Young Biff questioned, bursting out laughing. "That guy must be even older than you, but you must be losing your marbles. Strickland always tells us his dad and his grandpa were both cops. Now, get outta my way. I'm out of here," he said as he lightly pushed past his older self and quickly walked in the direction of his house.

Biff now realized he'd better be more prepared for his later meeting. Just for fun, he wanted to have a look around the school a little more. It looked nothing like this in 2015. He had gone there on occasion before Griff had a car, to pick him up after school. By than, it had many add-ons, including higher and lower levels. Many classrooms were remodeled or replaced altogether. Aside from the occasional passing glance from a staff member, he got no questions as to whom he was or any trouble. After almost half an hour, he saw an empty upstairs classroom, which was unlocked. He quickly ducked in.

He remembered this very room quite well. A geeky man named Mr. Arky had taught History in here. Though he wasn't really much older than the students – possibly in his mid to late 20s – Biff remembered this guy was dull as dirt as might as well have been 100. Feeling like a 10 year-old prankster, he stumbled over to the chalkboard and wrote the following out in big letters.

_Arky is a boring a**h*le. Get a life! _

Smiling and satisfied, he shuffled out of the room, taking the chalk and eraser with him, so it would be harder to erase. He made sure not to write _Butthead_ so his younger self wouldn't get in trouble. Figuring he would quit while he was ahead, he carefully and slowly made his way down the stairs, side stepping down while holding the rail with both hands and lightly kicking his cane down with him. He finally tossed the remaining chalk and erasers in a trash can outside the building.

He knew he had to kill time. It was still a couple hours before his counterpart showed up at Terry's. Less than half a mile from his old school, he was back at the theatre. He decided to see "Cattle Queen of the Montana" even though he was never a Ronald Reagan fan.

Nobody he knew worked there, which worked to his advantage. Buying one ticket, he went in, relatively unnoticed. Most townspeople probably assumed he was just an old man they'd never seen before. He didn't assume so-called Calvin Klein went to see this movie during his weeklong stay in the past either. He had to wait almost an hour for it to begin, though. He passed the time by reading more of the almanac, keeping it out of view of passersby obviously.

As the film started, he uncomfortably blended into the crowd of many ages. As it played, he took a different feeling to it than he did in 1955, even if it still wasn't the best movie he'd ever seen. Getting up a few times to go to the bathroom and get drinks and snacks, he never noticed anything unusual. There were a couple girls talking loudly, but he didn't give it a second thought.

When the credits rolled, he got up to leave. It was now 1:15 in the afternoon and knew he'd better get moving. Luckily his destination was only a few hundred feet away. This time, however, he was feeling another in the series of déjà vu attacks today. It was those same two girls giggling and talking throughout the movie.

One of them was behind him and politely said, "Oh, excuse me. Sorry about that," as she walked past him. He gave an "It's okay" kind of wave back. However he followed them out the exit door. He heard one of them say, "Gee, Lorraine, that movie wasn't so good. Shouldn't we head to Ruth's to get your outfit tonight?"

Speaking much more confidently than her friend, Lorraine said, "Oh yeah, Betty. I can't wait for Calvin to pick me up tonight in his uncle's car. I know he'll be nervous, but he's such a cutie, don't you think?"

"He seems like it. I always wonder why he's so anxious when you try to get close to him. Do you think he's ever had a girlfriend before?"

Marty's (or Calvin's) future mom reassured them. "He's enough of a dream to have 5 girlfriends at once. He's brave, strong, and not to mention, cool. He's so nice to have instead of Biff and his friends. Maybe Calvin just doesn't know what to say because he really likes me too. I just want to have a real boyfriend and marry a guy like that. I'm not getting any younger, I'll be 18 years old in 2 weeks, you know.

In the midst of their conversation, they were unaware of the old guy following them. "Hey girls! You know about this Calvin Klein?"

They turned around. Lorraine was the one who answered, a little unsure. "Um, yes I know him. Do you?"

"You could say that. He's a punk and a loser, just like his old man. You should go out with Biff Tannen," he said as he moved closer to his lifelong romantic interest.

"I'll never go out with him. Look, I don't know how you know Biff, but just leave me alone, old man!"

Lorraine and her friend, Betty went into Ruth's Frock Shop, assuming the old man would be gone by the time they left. It would take them awhile to pick out a few outfits, after all. In the meantime, he jaywalked across the street and watched as 24 year-old Terry Smith put the finishing touches on his beloved old '46 Ford.

After a good 20 minutes of walking around the area while waiting, he finally saw his younger self as he approached from the opposite direction. He knocked some little kid's hat off as he happily walked up to his car.

"Looking good, Terry."

"Hey, Biff, she's all fixed up just like new. But I couldn't get her started though," the mechanic said in a friendly way as he walked a few steps forward, from Biff's car to the tow truck ahead of him. "You got some kind of kill switch on this thing?"

Young Biff said with pride, "Nah, you just gotta have the right touch. Nobody can start this car but me." He opened the passenger door and dove backwards into the seat, quickly starting the engine using a hidden series of wires under the dash. Ever since he'd lost his keys a year or so earlier, he had to hotwire it and always remembered how to do it.

Outside, Terry read him the charges. "Okay Biff, the bill comes to 302 dollars and 86 cents."

Biff's attitude changed as he shut the engine back off and jumped out of the car, shutting the door. "300 bucks? 300 bucks for a couple of dents! No, that's b*llsh*t, Terry!"

Unfazed, his somewhat friend corrected him, "No Biff, it was horsesh*t! The whole car was full of it."

In the background, Old Biff watched the actions taking place, laughing to himself.

Terry continued, "I had to pay Old Man Jones 80 bucks to haul it away!" The niceness of his tone was beginning to disappear.

"Old Man Jones? He probably resold it too, now I oughta get something for that."

"You wanna get something for it? We'll go inside, you can call Old Man Jones, if he wants to give you a refund-"

Biff angrily cut him off, "That's 300 bucks!"

Terry tried to calm him down as they walked across the street into the Western Auto Parts store. "Biff, I tried to talk him down."

Biff was too angry. "If I catch the guy who caused this, I'll break his neck!"

Old Biff watched them enter the store as he talked out loud. "The manure. I remember that," he said with a slight laugh.

A few minutes later, after Young Biff came out of the shop and was about to get in his car, he heard giggling coming from up the street. Shutting the door, fixing his shirt collar slightly as he ran up the street and around a parked car to approach Lorraine from behind. Right then, remembering he'd be distracted, Old Biff walked around to the driver's side door. Finding it unlocked, he slowly sat himself down. He set his cane on the ground and got the almanac ready, taking the plastic bag and stuffing it into his shirt pocket. The book was now under the seat on the driver's side. This would be the time to know if his plan would work.


	8. The Ford Ride

1:45 PM.

Old Biff was watching his younger self try to pick Lorraine up intently. Needless to say, he knew the outcome, but was hoping to change that. With as much confidence as possible, he spoke up from the car.

"You always did have a way with women."

With slight shock and confusion, Young Biff said, "Get the h*ll out of my car, old man!"

He wouldn't give up that easy. "You wanna marry that girl, Biff? I can help make it happen," said his older counterpart, more confidently than he ever would at home in 2015.

He realized this was the old guy at school that morning and was unsure of what he wanted. "Oh, yeah, who are you, Miss Lonely Hearts?"

Not surprised, since he remembered how he used to be, Old Biff lowered his voice and said, "Just get in the car, butthead!"

That was his signature word. "Who are you callin' butthead, butthead?" Just than he calmed down a little bit as he again got amazed as Old Biff effortlessly reached under the car and started it. "Hey, wait a minute. How do you know how to do that? Nobody can start this car but me."

Old Biff couldn't really tell him, and didn't want to argue. "Just get in the car, Tannen. Today is your lucky day."

"My lucky day, for what, wasting 300 bucks? Well, listen, old man, just be careful with my car or you'll be sorry," he said as he got in the passenger seat.

"I know this car means a lot to you, and I won't let anything happen to it, Biff." He made a sharp U-Turn.

As they blasted down the street, Young Biff wanted to know a few things. "Listen, have you been spying on me or something? I ran into you at school this morning, you said you knew about Strickland."

"I know about him because I knew his father when he was town policeman and later became the vice principal. They're all buttheads and concerned with enforcing rules and they hate slackers," Old Biff said as he turned left.

"Okay, you're right," Young Biff laughed before becoming mad again. "But you still haven't told me what you're doing here. You sure as hell know a lot about me, too!"

His older self was less patient now. "Biff, you'll understand why I know so much about you, just as soon as we get where we're going!"

"And where the h*ll is that gonna be?"

Before either of them could say anything, they didn't realize Old Biff ran a stop sign and almost collided with a beige '48 Packard making a left turn. It carried original Marty, on his way to George's house.

Marty's reflexes were fast enough to swerve out of the way of the collision. "Jesus Christ! What the h*ll kind of driver is that?"

Luckily or not, he didn't see the car clearly enough to recognize it as Biff's, and neither did he see him or his aged counterpart.

Back in the Ford, Young Biff was getting crazy as they headed east. "I told you to look out! You almost hit that car. I just picked this up from the shop when it got filled with horse sh*t!"

"Hey, I'm sorry Biff, but it wasn't my fault. This butthead just pulls out ahead of me, if so, maybe he deserves to get hit." Old Biff may have unconsciously wanted to hit Marty. After all, he remembered the events of that day.

"Yeah, could be, but I just don't want you doing anything to this car. You never did tell me where we're going, or what this is about either!"

"I'm telling you, we're almost there already, in a minute you'll be really glad for everything that's about to happen today!"

Young Biff realized they were zeroing in on his neighborhood, so he'd be able to walk home if needed be. As paranoid as he was with his car, he was at least a little surprised to see how the old man was driving. Most old folks in this time didn't even drive at all, or if they did, they were unbelievably slow.

Making a left turn, and than a right onto Mason Street, around a mile and a half from downtown, the conversation continued.

"How exactly is this lucky for me? I think you just wanted to drive this car with me in it or something, huh?"

"If I told you what I came to do right now, you wouldn't understand, but someday you will. I know you'd think I was insane if I gave you every piece of information I have about you. There's no time for that now, here we are anyway."

Remembering where he lived, Old Biff hastily stepped on the brakes before making a sharp right turn into the narrow driveway of 1809 Mason Street. He accidentally took out a few of the neighbor's bushes along the way.

Young Biff again got alerted to his driving habits. "Hey, hey watch where you're driving, old man! If you dent this car, I'll kill you!" He was now leaning out the passenger side window hanging onto the door for life and looking behind him as the car again turned right, into Biff's opened garage.

"This cost me 300 bucks!" Biff barked in a ticked off, yelling, slightly high-pitched tone, as the car skidded to a stop.


	9. Finding A Way Back

1:50 PM.

"Oh, and there's one other thing," Old Biff said, pointing his finger, as he hurriedly followed his younger self out of the garage, shutting the rickety, but sturdy double doors and locking them. "One day, a kid, or a crazy, wild-eyed old man who claims to be a scientist is gonna come around asking about that book. If that ever happens, you gotta take care of it, kill them if you can, before they got a chance to do anything."

Young Biff was still shaking his head in some disbelief, but realized there had to be something good about the book for this old codger to be so insistent.

"Uh, kill them? You're not sh*ttin' me, kill anyone who asks about it?"

"That's just what I said, Biff. The scores in that book are only for you to know. If someone else sees it, they could get rich off it. You're the only one supposed to do that. Also, let's just say the scientist looks a little like Doc Brown. The kid looks a little like that punk Calvin Klein."

Biff's younger self was getting more confused, but had a change of heart about it. "I can't believe you know all this stuff about me. When I get to the dance, I'm already gonna knock Klein's lights out. I'm goin' in now, but thanks for the advice, old man?"

"Yeah, just remember about that book, Biff. See you in the future," said Old Biff as he trudged down the street, away from his former house. Young Biff went in and slammed the door. Knowing that was about as good as it was gonna get, Biff decided to leave it at that. Going a couple doors down, he knocked on one. He remembered who lived there and really wanted to tick him off.

A typical looking man in his 40s answered. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Listen, I need a ride up near Grass Valley. You think you could help an old man out? Also, those little kids of yours threw some other guy's basketball on the roof of your neighbors at #1807 this morning."

"Well, hang on pal, Grass Valley, right now? I suppose so, but what are you saying about my kids? Have they been causing trouble and bugging other kids again?"

As Old Biff cracked an evil smile -- knowing it had been the other way around -- the man said, "Just wait here, okay."

Biff vaguely heard him going upstairs. "Children, I have to go out for awhile, but when I get back, you're all in a load of trouble. Your mother can punish you while I'm gone."

"What did we do," they all asked, confused and innocently.

"You know what you did, it was with the basketball this morning. I don't know how you managed to get it up there, but you'll be sorry you did!"

"But, daaaaaad! We didn't. That mean man, Biff, did it."

"Look, there's a little old man at the door who says you did. Now I'll talk about this later, children!" As the guy headed back downstairs, Biff couldn't help but almost break out in a fit of laughter. He knew those little kids would get in trouble for something they not only didn't do, but what he did to them.

"Something must be funny," he said, as Biff brushed it off. "So, the car is out this way, we'd better get on the road soon. I'd like to be home by dinnertime." They headed out to a fairly new light green Thunderbird. Before long, the loud engine started and the car was pulling down the street and heading towards Route 395.

Before he could be interrogated, yet again, Biff volunteered the information himself.

"Hey, I've had a long day, so I'll just tell you whatever you want to know about me now. My name is Thomas, and my car broke down a couple miles past Peabody's farm."

"Okay, that's certainly good enough for me. I wouldn't ask too much about anyone's private life anyway."

During the 5 mile trip, there wasn't much else spoken. Biff just observed the scenery as it passed him by, taking it in happily, knowing he'd have to say goodbye to it shortly. As they rode out into the country, Biff knew he couldn't exactly let the car be seen, but had to get out relatively close to where the DeLorean was parked. He didn't want to walk it. Seeing the barn just up ahead, he motioned to the driver. "Hey, stop here. My car is, umm, hidden off the road somewhere, okay."

"Are you sure? I'll take you all the way there, it's no problem. I don't want you to have to walk it."

Though he appreciated the kindness, he got a little annoyed at the persistence. "Trust me, it's not far. Here is okay. Thanks for the ride."

"My pleasure, sir, I mean, Mr. Thomas. Have a nice day."

As soon as the T-Bird made a U-Turn and was heading far enough out of sight, Biff made his way back to the barn. It was 2:30 PM. Sure enough, it hadn't been touched or disturbed in any way. He was finally relieved that he wouldn't have to do any more sneaking around and walking fast. He physically just wasn't built for it anymore. Not only could he get some good rest, but also, if everything went to plan, he would be back in a much better future.

Before he knew it, he fell to sleep. Who knew the front seat of a DeLorean could be so comfortable? Just like this morning, the dreams seemed real, almost too real. Only now, he had one where he was a celebrity. Walking down the street he vaguely knew as Main Street in Hill Valley, his name seemed to be everywhere. People would say things like, "You're the man, Biff," and stuff like that.

This continued for God knows how long, until the disturbing ones began again. The same one, with Lorraine shooting him at close range repeated, as did a few others. In one, he drowned in the pool of a hotel, and couldn't stop it. Another time, gang members murdered him in a drive-by shooting. Other phenomena's such as falling were recounted too.

Again waking up in fear, he decided to get out now. Looking outside, it was dark. _D*mnit! How long was I sleeping this time?_

The time circuit display wasn't lying. It was 6:31 at night. He backed the car out, and noticing no one else around, took to the sky, just as he had done on the way in. It would only be a few minutes to the future site of Hilldale, which was now just a wooded, forest like area.

He wondered if everything he did with his younger self today had any effect. Skeptical as he began feeling at first, he did seem to take it at least slightly more seriously at the end. Biff had to think back on all the funny experiences he had in his couple days of time traveling. Finally seeing where Hilldale was, he actually decided to fly past it so he could reenter the skyway just as he had left it before.

He crossed town fairly quick, and reached 88 MPH. It was now 6:38 PM and he would soon find out about his future.


	10. Return to Hilldale

October 21st, 2015.

7:25 PM.

The three sonic booms sounded above as Biff made his entry right back to where he had been. He merged about 20 feet upward and merged onto the skyway, very anxious to discover his new future.

After flying around momentarily, he knew exactly where he was, but something just seemed a little out of place. Ever since the skyways had been completed in 2012, he had never seen them this empty, especially not at the tail end of rush hour traffic. There were maybe only one or two other cars in sight at all. When he had originally stolen the time machine at this very time in this very place, it was filled. The few drivers he saw had dilapidated vehicles, some even older then the DeLorean, and looked to be under maintained, with bumpers falling off, and the like. The town below also seemed like it had minimal activity. There weren't that many lights on. Feeling a little more shocked; a huge sign on the skyway caught his eye.

**Lorraine's Grand Resort.**

**Formerly known as Biff's Pleasure Paradise.**

**Hill County's biggest hotel.**

**Sparkling Pool, 300 Channel Flat TV with Playstation 9 in every room, B & B and more.**

**Next Right.**

Biff was too shocked to think of any words. It now was obvious what his younger self had done. Well, a part of it was anyway. _The other me obviously used the almanac._ He wondered where he lived now. He didn't have to guess who Lorraine was. It looked as if his adventure might not quite be done yet. Would he really still be rich now? Would this version of him be living with Griff? Would Griff even exist now? He began to think those dreams he had could've come true. He didn't want to think about the fact that he might've actually shortened his life.

He started to gasp for air for no reason, as if he was running out of breath. He was just now inching off the skyway and down to the ground adjacent to 47 year-old Marty's house. Struggling to open the gull wing door, his pain worsened. He grabbed his cane, which was stuck in the steering column. It broke off at the head. He stabbed himself with the broken half of it, only hurting himself even more. Staggering quickly away from the car, he could see the time traveling duo, carrying Jennifer.

"She encountered her older self and went into shock! Just as I predicted. She'll be fine, just get her back to 1985," Doc Brown said, with his voice raising, "And then I'm gonna destroy the time machine!"

Marty was confused. "Destroy it? What about all that stuff about humanity? Where we're goin' and why."

As they kicked open the passenger side door and plopped Marty's unconscious girlfriend onto the seat, Doc had the answer. "The risks are just to great, as this incident proves. And I was behaving responsibly! Can you imagine the danger if the time machine were to fall into the wrong hands!?"

_Ha ha, it already did_, thought Old Biff as he desperately tried to grab onto a car for support.

As Brown got some garbage from a nearby trash can, he continued his speech. "My only regret is that I'll never get a chance to visit my favorite historical era; the Old West. Time traveling is just too dangerous!" Calming down a little, he reflected on something else. "Better that I devote myself to studying the other great mystery of the universe." Looking toward the sky and pausing, he simply said, "Women."

"Yeah, Doc, I know. Sometimes I can't figure 'em out either. I never went out with a girl for more than a month or two before me and Jen met each other," the teen stated as they climbed inside the time machine, still totally unaware that anyone was in it.

Old Biff could still hear what they said. _I can't imagine what kind of woman is gonna fall for you, crazy old coot. You two b*st*rds are gonna be in for a shocker. I wonder what I was like rich. I just hope I made their lives a living h*ll. Them and the Irish bug George McFly___

Sadly, he didn't know how right he was. Just as he finished that thought, he glanced up at the car flying into the heavily polluted sky above. Biff no longer could hold on and slipped to the ground, moaning one last sigh as he began to vaporize and disappear from his own eyes. Vanishing into thin air, as if he never existed at all.

THE END.


End file.
